


Parlour Games

by Delphi



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Dark, Humiliation, Incest, M/M, Mind Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-27
Updated: 2006-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-05 09:00:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphi/pseuds/Delphi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The games Death Eaters play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parlour Games

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hikaru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikaru/gifts).



> Written for the 2006 run of Merry Smutmas on LJ.

**December 23rd: Charades**

The Roman punch was too sweet.

Severus Snape took another considering sip to make certain and then nodded in private satisfaction. Dinner had been flawless: the aperitif boasting a lengthier pedigree than half the guests here, the raw oysters plentiful, the Nesselrode pudding enough to put anyone's aged granny to shame. The house was likewise impeccable, decorated to the utmost of holiday taste, from the twelve-foot fir lit up with white candles and the holly-draped mantle to the ice sprites flitting outside the windows, etching snowflakes and winter scenes on the frosted panes. Everyone was having a marvellous time.

This small imperfection was the highlight of his evening.

He sank back in his chair, watching as the house-elf dragged in an old carmenaphone. The creature, with the help of a surreptitious kick from Lucius, hauled it up onto a table and dutifully cranked the handle until the strains of "The Wassailers' Carol" filled the air.

An appreciation for the perversity of the scene was slightly beyond him as Avery and the Carrows joined in for the chorus, swaying on the settee with cups upraised. A small crowd chattered over the punch bowl, another drifting across the parlour in orbit of the evening's hosts. This was no symposium; they minced blithely around their other association, effortlessly it seemed to Severus, the conversation more concerned with trivialities of the season than with their shared philosophy and politics. The party might have been any gathering of vapid young friends of acceptable breeding, his own presence excluded.

He idly wondered, a fingertip tracing the edge of his glass, if there would be a reprimand for Lucius—and the rest of them by extension—for this little soiree. This kind of bare-faced assembly made him nervous. Then again, he supposed their Lord would approve of that. For all that there was security in a web of supporters and sympathisers who wouldn't know each other if they passed in the street, it was a crueller sort of pact that drew him in now. The inner circle knew each other's faces, each other's names. They knew where each other lived. They knew each other's families.

His gaze skipped discreetly over the chilled glass of pumpkin juice in their hostess' hand. Narcissa stood at the fireplace with her cousin Regulus, who had been loosed from Hogwarts for the holiday, the two of them engaged in respectful conversation with a portly, blustering ancestor framed over the mantel. She paused after a polite laugh, straightening the skirt of her surprisingly modest dress robes. Severus saw her hand linger a moment at her stomach and looked away. Perhaps this time it would take, perhaps not. No one was tactless enough to offer even the most veiled good wishes just yet.

Regulus met his eye for the first time that night then, a moment's glance across the room before he murmured something to Narcissa and left her side. Severus feigned casual disinterest as he passed, sparing the merest flicker for the swish of blue robes that brushed against his knee. To ignore him altogether would be even more suspicious. He refilled his cup and waited for the mantel clock to count out a discreet three and a half minutes before rising.

"Leaving so soon?"

Lucius stopped him at the bottom of the stairway.

He paused, aware of ears pricking up at the edge of the parlour. "Of course not. I was looking for the...accommodations."

The corners of Lucius's mouth twitched. "What sort of accommodating do you need, Severus?"

"Somewhere to wash my hands." He blamed the faint heat in his cheeks on the punch.

Lucius leaned against the wall, looking him over and raising an eyebrow. "They look clean to me."

Severus rolled his eyes, giving in and letting Lucius have the satisfaction. "I need to piss."

The genial host, Lucius only smiled, tastefully ignoring his lowborn guest's crudeness. "Ah! Why didn't you say so? Second door to your right."

He shrugged off the indignity, mounting the stairs and letting the music and chatter fade out behind him. His tread creaked the top step, and the furthest door on the left swung open an inch. He turned on the light and faucet in the loo and put a locking spell on the door before slipping down the corridor and into the darkened room.

The door clicked quietly shut behind him, and a warm body pressed close for an instant. The lamp came on low, lighting up in golds and greys a fanciful nursery haunted by empty furniture.

"Severus," Regulus sighed, one hand brushing against his waist, lingering, curling tight around the fabric of his robes.

Severus could smell the wine on his breath as he leaned in closer, rich and sharp and just a little sour. Their lips met for only a moment, almost chastely, but Regulus's eyes were glittering when he drew back.

"I've been dying to do that all night." A shy squeeze of his hip. "Did you get my letter?"

Severus slipped an arm around his waist, drawing him closer, stepping back against the door and keeping an ear out for any who might interrupt them. "I did. It was quite...inspiring."

A sly smile illuminated Regulus's face, a sort of breathless excitement hiding behind it. It was that eagerness that gave him away more than his soft manner or the faint lilt to his voice, betraying his inclination to anyone who shared it. Severus strongly suspected it was only the burden of dignity that came with the promotion from spare to heir that had seen Regulus leaving Hogwarts with his metaphorical maidenhead intact.

Regulus's face fell suddenly, leaving only that naked desperation. "You're thinking about him, aren't you."

If he hadn't been, he was now. Severus paused, touching Regulus's cheek awkwardly and finding himself, not for the first time, taking apart his face piece by piece. A little skinnier, a little paler, almost resembling the greyhound of the Black family crest. The same light grey eyes, the same cheekbones, the long nose. Only the mouth was a great difference, weak and kind where its brother was spoilt and sneering. He did not lie. "I can't help it. Sometimes I look at you...and I think of the things he did to me."

The sagging shoulders, he'd expected, and the satisfying sympathy in Regulus's eyes. But the stubborn tilt of his chin was something wholly new.

"I've been thinking." Regulus worried briefly at his lower lip. "What if I could fix that?"

Severus frowned. "What do you mean?"

"What if I could fix it?" Regulus softly repeated, toying with a button on Severus's robes. "Then we could be together, couldn't we?"

He found himself faced with a sudden cunning that he at times suspected rivalled his own. That he was the one to rouse it never failed to do the same to him. "What are you planning, you wicked thing?"

Regulus only smiled giddily, kissing the tip of his nose before side-stepping him and slipping half out the door. "Look for my letter tomorrow. Oh, Severus—I'm going to give you the best Christmas gift in the world."

 

**December 24th: The Willing Game**

He had little difficulty finding the house despite the snowfall that stirred just after sunset; he always hated apparating in the weather. The hamlet of St. Annemund was smack-dab in the middle of nowhere, but it was the same nowhere that housed Spinner's End, and the familiarity of the terrain kept him from splinching himself. The town, after dark, was quiet and quaint: out of the shadow of the mills, with neat little cottages instead of row-houses and a crisp, clean scent to the winter air. He despised it immediately.

Regulus's directions took him to a house on the outskirts whose mailbox read "S. Black," a respectable little property, though the yard was overgrown and a string of fairy lights hung crookedly from the eaves. The windows were dark, but there was smoke rising up from the chimney. Severus drew his wand, his hackles rising accordingly in suspicion as he cautiously approached the front door. A sweep proved the wards disabled, a turn of the knob finding the door unlatched.

He entered silently, locking up behind him, his curiosity getting the better of him even as his mind trampled through a thousand prospective traps and betrayals. The kitchen was sorted into shadows by the faint firelight in the next room, and he muffled a curse as his hip bumped up smartly against the table.

"In here," Regulus called out softly, his voice tight with nervous excitement. There was a faint, odd sound in its wake.

Severus followed, his wand still at the ready and a hex on the tips of his tongue and fingers. Regulus sat regally in a high-backed chair in the centre of the room. At his feet, his brother was laid out stiff as a corpse, motionless save for the icy eyes that turned to greet Severus with helpless rage. And, perhaps, just the slightest glimmer of fear.

The sitting room was a disaster, and for a moment he was certain there must have been a struggle, but a second, more critical look belied that. This was domestic squalor: old newspapers and unwashed dishes, dirty magazines, and an interesting and teetering stack of files boasting Ministry seals.

"How?" he breathed, burning up, advancing until Regulus was before him and Black indignant between them.

Regulus's eyes shone, a sly tilt to his lips. "Despite my father's speculation, he and I are full brothers." He prodded Black with the toe of his boot. "Really, Sirius, blood wards—I would have expected that from a civilian, but not a Ministry man like you."

Black snarled through clenched teeth, only to be gently kicked again.

"Are you pleased?" Regulus asked, suddenly sounding worried.

Severus could do nothing but nod dumbly, pausing a moment to simply drink in the sight, and then he leaned in to kiss Regulus in a fit of passion, relishing the small sound of mingled shock and disgust from the pitiful specimen on the floor. He cupped Regulus's cheek, one hand braced on the arm of the chair, pressing closer, warming to his marrow.

Regulus made the faintest sound of pleasure, then drew back from the kiss with a lick of his lips. "No permanent damage," he said firmly. "If my family wanted him dead, they would have done it themselves."

He nodded, of course, and wondered if he wasn't the least bit relieved at the restriction. He had never taken a human life, by his own hands at least, and wondered sometimes with mild interest whether he were really capable of it. He did not have enough Muggle in him to relish the thought of physical violence, nor enough of a wizard's nature to view death as anything more than an undeserved respite. Did he want Sirius Black dead? It was certainly within his rights, precedent met in full. But the instinctual temptation didn't quite outweigh the intellectual consequences. He did not want to kill him. He wanted to make him _suffer_.

"Such attention would only hurt the Cause," he said softly. "But I think this blood-traitor needs to be shown his place. Imperio!"

The curse hit Black, unbraced, full force. He convulsed in the body-bind, his eyes rolling back in his head. When he had stilled, Regulus drew his wand and unwound the bonds, save for a charm to lash his wrists together behind his back. Black didn't struggle, but he quivered hard, fighting his own skin, trying to force out a strangled curse.

"Not a word out of your filthy mouth, Black. Levicorpus!"

Black lurched abruptly upwards, nearly crashing into the ceiling with the force of Severus's will. He hung upside down in mid-air, his robes falling over his face, two hairy legs sticking up almost comically.

Severus swallowed hard, his heart pounding pleasantly hard. "Now who wants to see me take off little Sirius's pants?"

He glanced at Regulus, whose cheeks were flushed. Poor little brother, as much a victim of the accident of his birth as Severus himself. He knew it from those many letters, those private meetings stolen away. Regulus wasn't the planned heir, wasn't the handsome one, neither Quidditch star nor top of any class—always the second choice, never mind how many times his Gryffindor of a brother spat on the rules of anything held dear by anyone.

"Do it," Regulus whispered, and the room seemed to fold in upon them in silent conspiracy.

"Fight all you want," Severus drawled, and Black exploded in a fury of kicks as his pants were yanked to his thighs, his knees, bunching around his ankles. The thrashing was futile but utterly satisfying.

Severus eyed his naked loins with a snort of disdain.

Regulus sat up straighter, obviously emboldened by his example. "'Big brother' is something of a misnomer, wouldn't you say?"

He hummed his agreement, idly turning his wand and sending Black tumbling arse over feet in the air. He caught a glimpse of a florid face as Black's robes flipped back over and fancied it was as much with rage and embarrassment as gravity. Black whipped around like a rag doll, like a puppet on strings, faster, faster. Severus's breath began to quicken in turn, watching Black flung out of control, spun to the point of retching.

"Liberacorpus!"

Black slammed to the ground, landing in a heap on the rug. He fought—not hard enough, but oh, he fought—pure hatred in his eyes as he gasped to catch his breath. Severus felt his cock twitch.

"On your knees."

Hands bound and ankles tangled together, it took Black a full minute to struggle up. Severus circled him, a muttered charm taking care of the crooked robes, and then pressed his boot to the back of Black's neck until his bare shoulders met the floor. He surveyed his handiwork, looking over at Regulus. "I think he's been in this position before. Does deviancy run in your family?"

Regulus looked down a moment, but his embarrassment was soon replaced by a cold and intriguing expression aimed at his brother. "Sirius doesn't like queers," he said crisply.

Severus suddenly imagined spending an entire childhood under the same roof as Sirius Black. "Ah." He wet his lips. "Perhaps he protests too much."

For a moment, his own pulse was all he could hear. Then Black managed a faint grunt of outrage and Regulus swallowed tightly.

"Sirius Black," he said softly, his mouth running dry. "I think you'd like to suck your brother's cock."

Regulus looked up sharply, going pink to the ears. He did not, however, utter a single word of protest as Black, halting and hateful, crept over to him. Severus followed, standing beside Regulus's chair, kissing his cheek and pulling up his robes. He raised an eyebrow but did not comment on the fact that Regulus wasn't wearing anything underneath.

The impetus had hooked deep. Black surged forward with amusing eagerness, mouth agape, and Severus sighed softly at the sight: glinting lips and Regulus already stirring.

"Oh fuck, Severus..." Regulus's head fell back, throat bared as his brother sucked and slurped at him voraciously.

"You _have_ done this before, haven't you, Black?" Severus was suddenly, painfully hard, tasting copper in his mouth, the sharp tang of wicked excitement. "Do you suck Potter off with that mouth? Do you let your little pet werewolf fuck you?"

His eyes fell on the mantel, where Black's wand lay. He summoned it over as Regulus moaned, and he got a nasty shock of magic for his trouble; it liked him as little as its owner did. "I'll bet you do." He spat on the wand and knelt down. "I'll bet you stick your arse in the air and whine for it like a bitch in heat..."

Black _whimpered_ around his mouthful as Severus pushed the wand in. Slowly. Savouring every second as Black's eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"Ah-ah," he murmured. "You'll keep your eyes open." He charmed the wand to move in a nice, brisk rhythm and saw pure murder in Black's glare.

He smiled. "Stop."

Regulus made a little sound of dissent as his brother pulled back. Severus quieted him with a hand on his shoulder.

"You're going to enjoy this, Black. You're going to come with your baby brother's cock in your mouth."

Regulus was flushed right down to his collar now, his eyes glassy, staring as Black shuddered hard, cock filling up without a hand on him.

"Back to work." He caught Black by the hair as he leaned in, interrupting him just as the tip of his tongue met Regulus's glinting cock. He amused himself a moment as the compulsion made Black mouth at the air desperately, straining for a taste. "Lower."

He watched intently, Black struggling with the command, mouth moving down several inches. "Lower." He gently spread Regulus's legs further apart—met with even less resistance than from Black—hooking each over an arm of the chair.

"Now get to work, cur."

Regulus bit his lip but didn't seem able to look away. Severus couldn't see the best of it, but he didn't need to. He could hear the faint sounds of humiliation and disgust from the back of Black's throat, the wet smack of his mouth; smell the arousal in the air; taste sweet revenge.

"Oh, you're hungrier than that, Black."

He watched as Regulus clutched his own knees with a white-knuckle grip. Black's hips were moving urgently, double-time to the wand lewdly fucking him, his cock thrusting against nothing as he muffled a frustrated grunt.

Regulus's hand wound tightly in his brother's hair, his voice hoarse and honed. "Suck me off, Sirius. Oh, you fucking bastard..."

Severus's breath nearly stopped altogether as Black obeyed like the most desperate half-sickle whore. His mouth was sloppy and starving, his eyes nearly brimming with furious tears. Regulus cried out once, sharply, and Black sputtered around a mouthful of come, his own cock offering up a pitiful spending in shameful spurts on the rug.

For a split second there was silence. Then the harsh breathing of the brothers Black crept in, and a soft "Stop" finally stilled the elder's mouth.

Regulus looked up at him, eyes heavy-lidded, a faint curl to his lips. "Severus now, Sirius."

He very nearly spent in his pants as Regulus reached for him and Black shuffled forward on his knees. Deft hands unbuttoned his robes, caressing him almost bashfully through his pants before carefully drawing them down.

"I want you to lick me like the dog you are," Severus murmured, unable to take his eyes off the pathetic sight.

Black's expression was hollow now, as though the hurt and humiliation had retreated to some far-off corner to sulk. Severus knew the feeling well. He breathed out a sigh of pleasure as Black lapped at his cock, his balls, his fingers even, as he began to stroke himself.

"That's it, you filthy wretch...you'll remember just how this feels..."

Black's mouth had gone dry, his tongue rasping against him, and that winsome little detail was enough to shove Severus over the edge, making his hand move faster, making him grab Black roughly and tear him away. He came with a long, sweet shudder, the first shot catching Black on the lips, the next on his chin, the next dripping down his cheek.

Severus shivered through, his lips drawn into a snarl. "You're worthless, Black," he choked out, punishing him to the last drop. Then he stepped back, drawing a deep breath and pulling his clothes hastily back in order. He pressed the tip of his wand to Black's brow, hesitating for several breaths and then, only with the greatest reluctance, whispered, "Obliviate."

Black rocked back on his heels, looking dazed for a moment before Regulus put him to sleep with a Somnus charm, sending him crumpling up on the floor.

Neither of them looked at each other for the minute that followed. He was aware of Regulus putting himself to rights, straightening his robes and his hair, regaining his equilibrium. He slowly stopped himself from shaking.

"I love you, Severus," Regulus said, low and quiet. "If you don't know that now..."

"I know."

He reached for Regulus, kissing him, surprised to find him so hot to the touch when he himself was freezing. The fire had gone out of him all of a sudden, rekindled only a little when, files copied and their magical traces scoured clean, they left Black where he lay: wearing nothing but Severus's drying seed, the wand stopped but still protruding obscenely from his arse. They went out into the sharp cold, the sky a pale night-grey above them. They leaned on each other almost drunkenly, wandering out to the street.

"If you can get away from your parents tomorrow," Severus said quietly, "come to my flat."

He could feel Regulus nearly sag beside him, and then a kiss was pressed to his cheek, then another, and another.

"I'll be there with bells on."

 

**December 25th: Blind Man's Bluff**

They ate Christmas dinner in bed. It was comprised nearly entirely of leftovers pilfered from the Black house, and the venue was more out of necessity than romance. The desk was the only other flat surface in his cramped bed-sit, and it could barely be seen any longer under a pile of books and scrolls and phials.

"You don't even have any holly up," Regulus said, nibbling on a piece of shortbread. He had gone through the whole meal like that, Severus had noted, bolting his food one minute and then slowing down and nervously forcing conversation the next.

Severus shrugged, laying his own plate aside. "I've never cared for the holidays."

It was that sort of bitterness that seemed only to endear him further to Regulus, who smiled fondly and delicately licked the last crumbs from his fingers. "Still?"

They kissed, long and lingering. The expectation that had been hovering over them all evening finally descended as he slowly pushed Regulus down on the bed. Regulus's arms came around him, clutching tight. He could feel an echoing heartbeat quickening as their chests pressed together. He took his time. A button here and there between breaths. A glimpse of naked skin. An encouraging squeeze. Regulus warmed up under his touch, nearly feverish, squirming wantonly as Severus got a hand in his robes—bare underneath once again.

"Wanted to be ready," Regulus gasped, pressing into his palm, his hips beginning to move.

Severus swallowed hard, not quite certain what there was to say to that, and so he only kissed him again and gave him a well-practised rub. They wrangled out of the last of their clothing, pulling the quilt up over them—driven by the draught rather than modesty, though Severus privately shrank from the frank and appraising look Regulus fixed him with in the moment before they were covered. They clung together under the blanket, hands roaming, Regulus's following his example: a hip for a hip, a side for a side, a thigh for a thigh. It was almost charming.

He had a flask of oil laid aside, but they never got to it. Regulus wouldn't let him move, holding onto him tight, and their kisses spurred on their need, leaving them frotting together with growing desperation. Severus spared a hand for them, taking them both in his grip and moaning at the hot, stiff rub of it, chafing just a little like the rasp of a parched mouth.

"Severus..." Regulus's leg hooked around his, their mouths meeting hard again.

He grew dizzy, his body winding tight. His spending, when it came upon him, was deliciously long, his balls drawing up hard the moment Regulus gasped and writhed—a slick warm spurt coating his hand, rubbed into his cock and mixing up with his own.

"Severus, Severus, Severus," Regulus murmured, nearly crushing the breath from him as he slowly descended, weak and shivering, from his peak.

They lay in their own sticky mess after, half-dozing and still tangled up together. He might have fallen asleep, Regulus's hand in his hair and the wind softly whistling outside. Then he heard the faint sound of lips parting, breath being drawn. He almost willed Regulus to keep his mouth shut.

"We could go to Australia," Regulus said softly, tracing the shell of his ear. "Or the continent. But I fancy Australia."

Severus opened his eyes, and Regulus spoke in a quiet, hurried rush of words. "Not forever. Just until this...settles. My parents will understand. He's mad, you know. I know you know that."

He made no reply, but Regulus only stroked his cheek. "You don't have to make up your mind right now. I want to see the school year out if I can. But there's something I want you to read—a book I found among my great-grandfather's things in the attic. It's about something called horcruxes. I think...well, it may prove to be insurance."

Severus managed a shallow nod and kept himself from looking away as Regulus's grin lit up like the sun. "Go to sleep, now," he said. "I'm just going to wash up."

Regulus' smile didn't dim as he made himself comfortable. "I'll wait up."

Severus dug his robe out from between the mattress and footboard, and he pulled his boots on over bare feet before venturing out into the corridor towards the shared loo. Lucius was waiting for him.

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

Severus scowled. "Weren't you watching?"

Lucius smiled blandly. "That would be rude." He did not, however, deny it.

"Couldn't this have waited until tomorrow?"

"I wanted to catch you...fresh." Lucius subtly cornered him, breathing in deeply. "Oh, you did enjoy yourself."

"It's Christmas Day, Lucius—shouldn't you be home with your family?" It was a half-hearted barb, one that didn't dissuade Lucius from kissing him. Hard, slow, and thorough.

Severus held his breath rather than be caught with a shaky one when Lucius let him go. A moment passed. He sighed. "He's still planning to run. He speaks slander. He mentioned a book...something about 'horcruxes.'"

Lucius feigned satisfaction, but Severus could see, lurking behind it, a glimmer of puzzled curiosity. "You see, Severus: never underestimate your charms. You can get everything you want with just a taste of honey." He paused, regarding him steadily. "You did get everything you want, did you not?"

He narrowed his eyes, but he nodded. "What will you do?"

Lucius seemed surprised at the question. "What needs to be done, of course. Our mutual friend will be most interested in this information." Severus saw the slither of an idea move across his face. "But by all means, enjoy yourself a little longer if you wish. I'd be most interested in seeing that book."

The traitorous sentiment settled almost warmly between them, unchallenged but not unacknowledged. It was a special sort of intimacy. They were bound up inextricably, and should one of them sink, the other would not be far behind. He had been offered worse in his life.

Lucius patted his cheek, his eyes glinting with perfect understanding. "Happy Christmas, Severus."


End file.
